Special Containment Procedures: SCP-086 is safely contained in Wing-██ of Site-19. SCP-086 must be opened at least once weekly to prevent a migration event.

During use, a variety of heavy weaponry and containment equipment is kept active and trained on SCP-086’s entrance, in order to incapacitate any emergent threat. The physical task of opening SCP-086 should be given to gloved D-Class personnel after the researcher has touched SCP-086’s handle with a bare hand. All testing of SCP-086 should be personally supervised by Researcher H█████.

Entities which emerge from SCP-086 and are not immediately terminated or returned should be classified SCP-086-x.

Greg Hollinger stood on one side of a sterile hallway, staring nervously at a nondescript white door. The footsteps of determined men and women in clean coats echoed through the corridors from some distance away. Greg took a step forward, then another. He stretched out his arm, brushed the bare metal knob with his bare skin, and flinched. Reached forward again, took firm hold of the doorknob. Felt an involuntary tremor through his hand and up his arm to his shoulder. A sense of purpose seized him, he jerked the knob and wrenched open the metal door.

Inside the janitor's closet, there was a mop. There was a bucket of soapy water. There was an assortment of cleaning compounds. There was a small spider, which skittered out of view behind some boxes.

And, on the floor, there was a letter addressed to a Dr. Gregory Hollinger. Still sealed. He picked it up, broke the seal sloppily with a finger.

He read the letter inside, then read it a second time, then carefully folded it up and ripped it into a hundred tiny pieces and threw them all back into the closet, admiring the way they fluttered and danced as they fell to the ground.

He closed the closet door and left the hallway, picking his way carefully through the danger signs and yellow tape he had set up.

Description: SCP-086 can manifest as a portal to any relatively small contained space with a single opening. When SCP-086 is opened, an anomalous entity will be found inside. It has been confirmed by X-ray scans and cameras placed inside SCP-086 that these entities do not exist until the door is open. The entities produced are designed to frighten the last person who touched SCP-086’s opening mechanism (in host sites which lack a distinct opening mechanism the entire item will exhibit this property).

SCP-086-a is a non-corporeal entity which manifests as a floating, partially transparent “dark patch.” If SCP-086's host container is destroyed or is not opened for a period of two (2) to three (3) weeks, SCP-086-a will emerge and roam aimlessly until it encounters another suitable space to inhabit. SCP-086-a passes through all obstacles it encounters and causes vivid hallucinations in any sentient beings it passes through.

SCP-086 was discovered in an anonymously delivered, unmarked cardboard box mailed to Researcher H█████. Two weeks later, SCP-086-a manifested and entered a janitorial closet in Site-19, which was later designated SCP-086.

If SCP-086 is closed with an entity it has produced still inside, the entity will vanish and a new one will appear when the door is open. It does not have this effect with any other beings or objects. SCP-086 will not produce an entity or eliminate an existing one if the door is closed with a sentient being inside. However, SCP-086-a will migrate if a sentient being remains in SCP-086 for more than three (3) hours. Sentient entities produced by SCP-086 show extreme fear of SCP-086 and are highly averse to being returned to the closet.

Thus far, all biological entities produced by SCP-086 have suffered from a major biological flaw, resulting in the entities' death within twenty-four (24) hours.

“Excuse me, Director, do you know what’s going on with Greg? He hasn’t reported in for over a week.”

“Greg? Oh, Dr. Gregory Hollinger? He’s been transferred off your project. Discovered some potential new SCP item. I believe he’s been putting the paperwork together to get it classified, number 086 or something.”

“Why wasn’t I informed? You can’t just transfer my immediate subordinates around willy-nilly, I need replacements.”

“You weren’t informed? You were mentioned several times in the paperwork. I thought you were involved in the initial discovery or something.”

“This is the first I’ve heard of it. I’ll have to talk with Greg about this.”

“Alright, then. Let me know what you find out.”

Addendum 086-1: Brief log of anomalies produced by SCP-086.

Subject: Dr. ██████ (first encounter with SCP item)Entity: A large colony of [REDACTED], apparently spelling out the message ████ ██ ████. Entity proved non-viable and began to exude [REDACTED] from its pores. Subject showed considerable distress. [REDACTED] disposed of along with SCP-086's host box.

Subject: D-Class PersonnelEntity: A large creature made entirely of fist-sized, bloodshot eyes on tentacles connected to a small central mass. Subject screamed and retreated. Entity moved forward for several feet in a writhing motion before collapsing under its own weight. Autopsy showed no organs besides the eyes and a frail musculature. DNA matched no known animal.

Subject: Researcher H█████Entity: A small sheet of paper with a number of addresses listed in shaky handwriting. Subject displayed extreme stress but claimed not to recognize the addresses. Subject later volunteered to take on SCP-086’s study as a full-time project. ‘Ink’ confirmed to be dried human blood matching subject’s DNA.

Subject: Agent █████Entity: A very convincing imitation of Agent █████’s current supervisor, which informed the subject he had been demoted to D-class for gross incompetence and handed him a printed notice. Entity collapsed of organ failure one hour later. Autopsy showed the entity lacked a digestive system.

Agent Lawson stood outside the hallway and glared.

“Why is this area blocked off?” she asked.

“SCP-086 has taken up residence in the janitorial closet. It can’t be safely moved, so I’ve sectioned off this hallway.

“Eighty-six? Never heard of it. Is it Keter?”

“No, Euclid, but not safe enough that you can just walk by. Just added to the list this week.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If there was really a new Euclid I would have heard about it in the Site news system by now. What is it?”

Greg drummed his fingers nervously on a wall. “It’s a non-corporeal entity, um, takes up residence in enclosed spaces and generates things whenever you open the door. Tries to scare you.”

“I fail to see why I can’t go down the hallway. I’ll have to go well out of my way to go around, I don’t want to be late.”

“It’s, um, regulations. In the containment procedure. You can look it up.”

“I will, Dr. Hollinger, and I hope for your sake that you’re right.”

She walked away. Greg sighed in relief and returned to the door, which sat slightly ajar.

“Is she gone?” asked a small voice. Greg nodded happily. “Good.”

Incident 086-2:
On ██/██/20██, during a standard test with Researcher H█████ as the subject SCP-086 produced a scrap of paper with the words [REDACTED] hand-printed with large blocky letters. May indicate an attempt by SCP-086 to communicate. Further research is in order.

“Would you care to explain what this document I’m holding is, exactly?”

“What? It’s an incident report file for SCP-086.”

“There is no SCP-086.”

“No, there is, Gregory got the approval back just the other day.”

“No. There is no SCP-086. No proposals for the classification of such have been submitted.”

“But Greg said—”

“I suggest you find Dr. Hollinger and send him in for a psych evaluation. Something extremely odd is going on and I don’t like it.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to him again.”

Incident 086-4: Video log ██/██/20██ ██:██

██:15: Researcher H█████ enters containment zone, clutching a piece of paper in one hand.
██:17: Researcher H█████ pushes the paper he is holding under the door of SCP-086. Intra-086 feed shows that this is the paper created in Incident 086-2.
██:22: Researcher H█████ opens SCP-086, using his bare hands. No entity is observed to appear.
██:23: (voice log) Researcher H█████: Who are you?
██:25: Researcher H█████: [REDACTED]?
██:25: Researcher H█████ (gets down to his knees): How is that possible. You—
██:26: Researcher H█████ begins to cry softly.
██:29: Researcher H█████: How did this happen? Did [REDACTED] you?
██:32: Unknown: … it was all your fault…
[FEED ENDS]

The director groaned audibly. “Seriously?”

“Yes sir, this is the only video feed remaining on record. It seems Hollinger had the security cameras blocked off for most of the ‘tests’ he ran.”

“What’s the status on the closet itself?”

“We’ve done a full sweep. No signs of any anomalies, and none of the staff mentioned in the report remember any of this.”

“So he made the whole thing up? Why?”

“Unknown, sir. He seemed relatively stable up until now.”

“No exposure to some memetic thing? No traumatic experience?”

“No. He did get a letter.”

“About what?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out, sir. It should be on record somewhere from the routine mail-scans.”

“What about Hollinger himself?”

“Missing, sir. We’ve got a team on it.”

He stared at his hands — they were dripping. What was he doing, again? Oh yes. Escaping.

“Hurry up, Daddy!”

He ran through the brightly lit hallways, feet pounding a steady rhythm, like a heart-beat or a set of drum-sticks pounding inside his head. Turning corners automatically, trying not to notice the walls melting behind him. Was he lost?

“This way, Daddy!”

The sun winked at him through layers and layers of heavy glass. ‘Exit’, promised the signs above the door. People were in his way, now. They wanted to stop him. He stared at his hands.

“Hurry!”

“Three injured, one dead. How did this happen?”

“Nobody was expecting this kind of violence from him. It just came out of nowhere.”

“Are we sure it was Hollinger?”

“Fairly sure. The descriptions match him. The video feeds are pretty lousy, no good shots of his face.”

“Reading through his file, it’s hard to believe he could do something like this. Do we have a motive? Some kind of SCP connection, maybe?”

“Not that we know of. Unless there really is an eighty-six.”

“God, I hope not. The letter?”

“We found it. It’s a notice of his son’s death in a car accident.”

The director sighed. “That explains a little. Not nearly enough. Where is he now?”

“Off site. We’re tracking him down.”

“Let me know when you find him.”

Gregory Hollinger smiled. Now he could spend some quality time with his family. It had been terrible of him to spend so much time away from home. What if something had happened?

Muffled voices yelled for help from the big wardrobe in the corner of the abandoned house; he ignored them. Astounding that there was nobody here before. Not the nicest place; in fact, likely to fall down any day now, but rent free.

He turned a page of his book and frowned. Red stains all over the pages. Where did those come from? He put the book down. Someone was knocking at the door, rather loudly. No, he had barricaded the door and someone was trying to force their way in. That was it.

“Aren’t you going to let them out, Daddy?”

“Not yet,” he muttered. “A little more time. I haven’t seen your mother since …” Where was she? His mind teetered on the brink for an instant as he scrambled for an explanation. He had seen her already, that was it. She had gone out to buy cleaning supplies. Lord knew this place needed a once-over.

“The bad men are coming.”

Splintering sounds from the entrance. Scratching from the corner. Pounding from his heart and head. Dripping from … somewhere. He had a sudden urge to wash his hands, but there was no running water. He should call someone about that, but of course, no phone lines.

“Hurry!”

Reluctantly, he pulled himself up from the chair, careful not to step on anything. There was a loud crash, and several men in black suits entered the house.

“Gregory! Remain calm and assume the position. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Greg was confused. Was he not calm? Was he doing something wrong?

“Hurry! Open it!”

He took a step toward the wardrobe. A burst of gunfire shredded part of the ceiling. Another step. One of the men yelled something at him. He grabbed the handle. The door felt impossibly heavy — he pulled, and pulled, and pulled.

It opened.

A boy, about ten, bleeding from a gruesome head would, stepped out of the wardrobe. The men fired. Bits of gore sprayed the walls. The boy continued forward.

“Why weren’t you there?”

Gregory cried and tried to embrace the child. It fell apart in his arms.

Then the ceiling gave way.

“So, that’s the report. Fortunately, all our agents managed to get out relatively unscathed.”

“What about the aftermath?”

“Not much to say. We found Hollinger’s remains, some murdered homeless men, and that’s it. No trace of the kid all the agents saw.”

“Alright. Not much we can do with this. File it away somewhere, hope nothing else comes of it.”